


The Ballad of Trevor Wilson

by MadameCristal



Series: A Star is Born [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Defense Squad, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Redemption, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Trevor Wilson, Good Dad Ray Molina, Good Dad Trevor Wilson, Good mom Rose Molina, Grief/Mourning, Reggie and Alex's parents are the WORST, Rose is Julie's mom, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameCristal/pseuds/MadameCristal
Summary: The life of Bobby after June 25, 1995 (yeah, that night) as told in a 5+1 format.Featuring Rose as Julie's mom, "Carrie Wilson Stan" Trevor Wilson, and totally made up last names for characters!
Relationships: Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Rose, Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Reggie, Julie Molina's Mother/Ray Molina
Series: A Star is Born [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992430
Comments: 79
Kudos: 132





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi new fandom (that I might be too old for - is there an age limit here?!) *waves excitedly*
> 
> So I haven't written anything in nearly a year, and I thought I'd pop in this fandom and write some cute and happy Jukebox or fangirl over Reggie. That is not what happened. Trevor Wilson and his unknown backstory has consumed by thoughts, and this story was born.
> 
> There are legitimate sad moments in this fic. Suicide Attempt tag is for Chapter 2 FYI. I just want to be upfront with anyone in case that's a trigger, please skip that part and take good care of yourself! I love you all and your beautiful bright souls! ♥ 
> 
> That being said, this story is one of hope and does feature a happy ending! I really hope you guys like it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just playing in the sandbox made by Netflix and Kenny. Also, this is un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby makes a friend for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG hiiii! Here we are with Part 1.
> 
> Featuring totally made up last names for everyone because they needed them. Also, featuring Rose as the greatest gal ever.
> 
> Also, as a note, apparently my Bobby/Trevor was totally in love with Reggie. Can't blame him because Reggie is the best. So just embrace it because he literally never gets over it. *Sad Bobby*

On June 25, 1995 three members of the band Sunset Curve died of anti-freeze poisoning while eating tainted street dogs. There was, of course, a fourth member of Sunset Curve. But people tended to forget that – except for Bobby himself. He never forgot. But that was nothing new. After all, people always tended to forget Bobby. 

He’d met the guys when he was a freshman. Luke and Alex had been friends since the sandbox. Reggie had joined their group in middle school. So he was last to the group; brought in to make the band legit honestly. He’d always been a little off from the heart of the group. It hadn’t bothered him then though. He’d moved to California to live with his grandparents after his parents died. So he was just glad to have anyone in this new strange place. Glad to have something to focus on that wasn’t his grief. Looking back, maybe if he’d opened up and shared that, he might have fit in – the true fourth piece of the puzzle. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d offered up his grandparents’ garage as a studio for the band, desperate for something to offer the guys.

Sometimes he wonders if it was the garage that kept him in the band for all those years. After all, it was the garage where Reggie slept 5 nights a week throughout high school – when his parents were fighting, or his dad was drinking, or his mom was out screwing her yoga instructor. It had become Alex’s home when his parents kicked him out for being gay the summer they turned 16. And of course, it was where Luke had turned up when he’d run away that Christmas.

It was also that garage where Bobby was sitting when he made the most important friend of his life. June 27th, 1995. It was a real shitty day for him. A whole morning in the same graveyard where he’d buried his parents not even 4 years earlier. Reginald Arthur Nelson’s funeral had been the first of his bandmate’s; just two days after the accident. Almost as if his parents didn’t need to grieve – just wanted to get things done and then get out of dodge. At least they were finally getting a divorce. Four years too late, but Bobby wondered if Reggie would have liked that. 

So there he was, sitting on the floor in his black wrinkled suit, wondering if Reggie would have wanted him to give a speech or something instead of singing a country song. Luke or Alex probably would have. But all Bobby could do was sing a song. So he was thinking about that and wondering if he should throw his guitar away or if he could just sit in the garage until the other funerals were done, when she walked in. 

Walked was maybe too casual of a word. She threw open the doors loudly and with gusto. And the sunlight surrounded her frame. For a full minute, Bobby thought an actual angel was popping in for a visit.

“That performance was really moving,” she said finally. _Maybe she was a mind reader instead of an angel?_ It was a thought he would have many more times throughout the years.

“Yeah?” he asked. “You didn’t think it wasn’t enough? Because I’m not sure it was exactly respectful or something…” he trailed off and stared at his guitar again. _Definitely going in the trash_. Rose smiled softly and then sat on the floor with him.

“Nah. I mean I only met Reggie the one time, but you were his friend. His bandmate. You knew him best. Probably better than his parents who didn’t say anything, right? So if you think he’d dig a song about a horse at his funeral, then I’m sure he did.” And she said it with such confidence. Like of course Bobby would know what was best. And of course Reggie was watching down from above and 100% supportive. For the first time since that night, Bobby felt a little weight lift off his shoulders. Nowhere close to all of it, but just enough that he could breath again. And maybe not throw his guitar away. He smiled at her.

“He wrote it, ya know? Like Sunset Curve was obviously not a country band. So I’m not sure why, but he was always writing country songs. Said maybe we could go through a phase when we made it big. I don’t think Luke or Alex were ever going to be down for that. But I don’t know, I thought it was cool. _Home Is Where My Horse Is_ was my favorite. It would probably have been better by Reggie. I’m sure I missed some cords playing from memory,” he shrugged at her. She gestured at his guitar, and he handed it over. Slowly, she played the chorus. It was bit off from what he played, but then again it might have been what was actually correct.

“Why’d you memorize it then? If Sunset Curve wasn’t going to play it?” she asked without looking up from the guitar, fingers still strumming. He shrugged, even knowing she wasn’t looking. If she were to look up, she might even see his cheeks flushed pink.

“For Reggie. In case, he wanted to play it anyway, ya know? That way he wouldn’t have to do it alone. I’d be there with him. And it’s a really pretty song,” he muttered the last part. Rose heard him anyway though. She looked up at him.

“Then yeah. I think I can definitely say it was perfect for today. Are you going to play for Luke and Alex too?” she asked. He shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Luke’s funeral is next week. His parents have a whole program planned. There’s not really any room for the band member that survived in that. And nobody’s planned anything for Alex yet,” he stuttered at that, “I have a plan though. Like I’m definitely going to do something. But then I thought maybe I was supposed to wait for his real family to do something first?” Bobby sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. Everything was so complicated. Too bad he couldn’t go back in time and just eat the damn hotdog; be much easier. Rose hit him hard in the shoulder. 

“No. You don’t get to think that,” she commanded. _Opps, must have said that out loud._ A tear slipped down his cheek again. Rose pulled him close in a hug.

“Hey Rose, how come you’re here? You knew me for like one night and then you’re here being all nice and just why?” he muttered into her shoulder, afraid to look her in the eyes.

“Because you looked like you needed somebody? You’re a good guy, Bobby-who-I’ve-known-for-one-night. And you looked so sad and that sucks. So I thought, yeah I’m going to go check on him and see if he wants a new friend.” And it was so sweet and so definitely Rose. He felt more tears streaming down his cheeks, but he ignored that to pull back and look at her.

“Yeah. I mean I really do,” he said through the tears. And again he felt like the sunlight was framing her face as she smiled at him. Like she was his own personal angel come to save him from being alone. His sunlight angel.

“Okay Bobby Last-name-unknown. That’s it. Your officially stuck with me,” she said, pulling him up with her to standing. 

“Bobby Johnson,” he corrected – because new friends need real names and he was hoping to get hers. She smiled again and handed him his guitar. 

“Okay, Bobby Johnson. You are officially stuck with Rose Lopez. Now, maybe we go through this big something you’ve got planned for Alex and his obviously stupid family can just get over it?” she asked, peering at him to see if she’d pushed too far. She hadn’t.

“Oh. I mean okay yeah. I have this idea to do something with Madonna’s _Vogue_ because he really liked that. And I haven’t quite scrounged up enough for something really big or fancy, but my grandparents gave me enough money that I could get like a little headstone?” he bit his lip as he talked, nervous again that maybe it wasn’t his place since he wasn’t Alex’s _real_ family.

“No that’s great. We’re going to make it great,” Rose said, sitting down on the couch. Bobby felt that he could breath a little more then too. As if Rose was just putting more oxygen in the air just for him to breath. He sat down beside her.

“Okay. So I know the song is a little more catchy than just my guitar, but basically if I start like this,” Bobby explained as he played the song on his guitar. Rose nodded along, the sun shined a little brighter, and Bobby Johnson was little more alive…

* * *

Luke’s funeral was indeed crowded. Emily had planned it all, just as Bobby had expected. He stood in the back, in the same wrinkly suit he’d worn to Reggie’s funeral and tried to only cry quiet tears, lest he draw any attention to himself. Rose went with him. She held his hand and even cried too. Bobby did not sing. 

But something surprising did happen. As they were leaving, Emily Patterson came to talk him. Bobby was so shocked that he was certain he’d broke Rose’s fingers by squeezing so hard.

“Bobby?” Emily asked. He nodded. He’d met her twice before actually, but that had been years ago. He was surprised she knew who he was at all. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming,” she said and reached out to grab his free hand. He nodded and squeezed her hand, trying to find his voice.

“I, um, yeah. Of course. Sorry about your loss, Mrs. Patterson,” he said finally. The older woman looked into his eyes then and gave him a watery smile and a short nod. Without another word, she let go of his hand and turned to someone else in the crowd. Bobby fled then, Rose close behind.

That afternoon he sat in his garage – the garage – and cried while listening to the Sunset Curve demo CD. Rose stayed the entire time and rubbed circles on his back. 

* * *

Alex’s parents did not have a funeral. In fact, Bobby wasn’t sure they ever even acknowledged that they had a son. But they were shit people. Bobby had always known that. So one week after Luke’s funeral, Bobby and Rose held their own special “Alex service”. Bobby’s grandparents were their only audience. The two teenagers – a 17 year old boy and a 19 year old girl – dressed in their Madonna best, dancing and singing _Vogue_ like it would somehow bring back the spirit of the boy that was laid to rest in the very back of the cemetery. But as Bobby promised, it was the same one that Luke and Reggie were in, just not as big and fancy. There was just a little headstone, the inscription as big as he could afford.

_Alexander Louis Martin  
February 7, 1978 - June 25, 1995  
Beloved friend and musician  
“Beauty’s where you find it.”_

Bobby’s grandparents cried with them afterwards and then hobbled to the car to wait. They were getting older, fragile in a way that Bobby didn’t have the heart to comprehend then. It took longer though for Bobby to muster up the courage to leave; as if his heart somehow knew that he wouldn’t be coming back. He left a single flower at each of his bandmates’ graves. Pink for Alex, red for Reggie, and blue for Luke. Rose had picked the flowers; they were dahlias.

That was the last day that Bobby Johnson ever sang a song or played a musical note.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby Johnson becomes Trevor Wilson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE ATTEMPT
> 
> Please take care yourselves! ♥
> 
> Also, in general, this chapter is just really sad and I'm sorry, but I felt like it was Bobby's story and it needed to be told.

On June 25, 1997, Rose Lopez spent most of her day in the hospital. 

She had started that morning expecting to celebrate her engagement. The most perfect man called her _his whole world_. She was giddy and excited and maybe spent the entire night giggling with joy instead of sleeping. So she’d expected to see her best friend, soak up his congrats, and then drag him with her to see Ray’s photo exhibit. It was going to be a 10/10 day.

Only she’d forgot, in her excitement, the date. It had slipped her mind, in that haze of love and kisses and a very pretty ring. So she’d arrived at Bobby’s and gone straight to the garage, skipping in excitement. 

But when she got there, her heart stopped. Because her friend – her very best one, better than even the girls in her band – was lying on the couch looking very pale, eyes closed, and a empty bottle sitting on the table next to him. 

Rose screamed. That she remembers. And calling 9-1-1. But the time between that and hours later sitting at his bedside, that she doesn’t remember. As if the whole world turned off it’s axis until he opened his eyes hours later, confused and throat hoarse.

“Rose?” he whispered. And she’d smiled even though she was still crying.

“Hi dummy,” she whispered back. He coughed, and she helped him take a sip of water. “Your grandparents are getting coffee. They’ll be back soon.” He grimaced.

“Oh,” Bobby replied. And then he said nothing. Rose knew that this was a delicate moment and maybe there were things she wasn’t supposed to say. She was so afraid to say the wrong thing, but she had to say something, anything. She had to know what was going on with her best friend, so she could really be there for him.

“Bobby, what were you thinking? Why would you do that?” she asked finally. He sighed.

“Because it hurts, Rose. Because every day that I’m Bobby Johnson hurts. Because I miss my friends – even if I was never really their family like they were mine. And I miss music, but I can’t make it without them. I just feel so alone,” he said, voice still scratchy. Rose felt tears fall down her face, but she didn’t wipe them. Instead she grabbed Bobby’s hands.

“Okay. But you have me Bobby. And you have your grandparents. We love you. We need you. And if being Bobby Johnson is the problem, then don’t be him anymore,” she said, gripping his hand. He chuckled darkly back at her.

“For now, Rose. I have my grandparents for now. I know they weren’t at home, because Nana is getting chemo. And that Pop Pop is going to go right after her, because they’re that epic kind of love. I’m not stupid. I see things. Like that ring on your finger. So maybe you don’t need me either, huh? Besides you can’t just stop being yourself,” he sighed again. As if he’d already thought of these things. And maybe he had, but he didn’t have Rose there to make him see sense.

“You can’t know that. People beat cancer, Bobby! And I still need you. You’re my best friend, no matter what.” Rose choked out a sob and squeezed his hands again. “So if you want to be somebody else, if that’s what it takes, then let’s do it. I can have a new best friend. His name can be, uh, Trevor. Yeah, you can be Rose Molina’s best friend Trevor,” she said, voice rising with hope. And Bobby – no Trevor – took a deep breath. Because Rose was doing that thing again, where she put extra oxygen in the air just for him. He nodded slowly.

“Okay, Rose. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can be Trevor,” he whispered. She smiled her million-watt smile at him, and nudged him over to make room for her in his hospital bed. She climbed in with her and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Just don’t ever do that again okay. Don’t try to leave me alone…” she trailed off here, like there was something more to say. She took a deep breath. “Like they left you. Don’t do that to me. Promise?” she whispered, eyes closed tight. He kissed the top of her head.

“Yeah. I promise, okay,” he replied, voice shaky. He hadn’t thought of it like that. His heart clenched at the thought of leaving her like they had left him – of her ever feeling like he did. _Never_. “I, Trevor Yet-to-have-a-last-name, solemnly swear to never ever leave Rose Molina, because she’s the best friend in the entire world.” He grinned down at her, expecting her to roll her eyes. But instead she just smiled back, like that was the second best promise that she would ever hear (because Ray’s “I do” was definitely gonna be #1).

“Trevor Wilson,” she said firmly. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Like the sporting equipment company? That’s what we’re going with?” he questioned with a soft laugh, throat still sore. She grinned.

“Real friends have real names. Plus you got me that rainbow volleyball for Christmas,” she explained.

“Okay. So Rose, tell Trevor Wilson about that proposal and the pretty ring,” he said with a smile, small but real. She snuggled closer and launched into a detailed account of all the ways that Ray Molina was the _most romantic guy ever_. Sometimes, he swore she was describing Reggie, but he pushed that though away. Trevor Wilson wasn’t having those thoughts today. Today he was listening to a story about a beach and candles and a very pretty ring. 

Later when he thought about it, he’d say that Bobby Johnson did die that day, in _that garage_ consumed with grief for the family that didn’t think of him quite as family and for a boy that never loved him quite as much as he wanted. He’d also say that Trevor Wilson was born in the hospital room by sheer force of a woman who loved him more than he thought anyone ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline  
> 800-273-8255  
> Available 24 hours in English and Spanish.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby sells his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now featuring a much fluffier chapter.

Bobby was right about his Nana and his Pop Pop. By the summer of 1999, he had laid them both to rest in the same graveyard where the rest of his family was buried. In a fit of insanity, he’d even bought a headstone there that said _Bobby Johnson_ next to them. He resolved to never tell Rose, because it was morbid, and she’d get her disappointment eyes. He hated those eyes. 

He thought about visiting the guys' graves while he was there, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. After all, Trevor Wilson had no reason to visit any graves. And he was doing his absolute best to be that person. So he quickened his pace and headed back to his car. He had plenty of other really big things on his mind anyway. 

Later that night, he met Rose and Ray at a little bar where Rose and the Petal Pushers were performing, still thinking deep thoughts. Well, mostly one thought – that maybe Trevor Wilson could be a solo artist? I mean, he hadn’t picked up his guitar in over 4 years. But for the first time, he thought maybe he should. After all, Trevor Wilson had no reason to be afraid of music.

He pumped his fist in the air in time with Rose’s keyboard notes, as he came to this conclusion. And although it would take years, Trevor would always pinpoint this moment as the one where he really decided to be _Trevor Wilson – Rockstar_.

* * *

By summer 2003, he was again deep in thought as he drove back to his grandparent’s house. Even though he moved out years ago and gotten a cute loft downtown, he’d never sold his grandparent’s house. It just felt too much like saying goodbye forever to them. But Rose had convinced him this was the time; he was releasing a single soon! The house was cleaned and ready for a new family. And Trevor had the best idea for said family.

Of course he’d been putting off the garage. Because it was a horrible no good place but also because some of his best memories were there. And he wasn’t sure if he could be _Trevor Wilson_ and be in _the garage_ at the same time. 

Rose and Ray met him at the house. Rose waiting on the front porch while Ray took pictures for the sales listing. She smiled when he finally arrived. To him, she looked like she was glowing. He squinted as he walked up the stairs to her.

“Are you extra angelic today? Because I really think you’re glowing,” he asked, wrapping her in a hug. She squealed. He pulled back, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Oh my god. Best friend ever! I’m pregnant! They say you’re supposed to wait to tell people, but best friends have different rules, right?” she peered at him expectantly. He grinned. 

“That’s awesome Rosie!” he cheered for her. “Yeah, totally different rules. Which brings me to the deep thoughts I’ve been having all week,” he cleared his throat nervously. 

“Deep thoughts about what?” she asked suspiciously. “Since when do you have deep thoughts for a week and not tell me?” He swallowed hard. 

“About the house,” he clarified, “and you. I think you and Ray should buy it. Because it’s a good house. And now you’re gonna have a munchkin. And Nana and Pop Pop would like it.” He said it all very quickly, hoping to get it all out before she objected. Rose was stunned into silence though.

“You want me to buy your house?” she asked. “Trev, it’s an expensive house.” He shook his head.

“No it’s not. It’s however expensive you guys need it to be. Because it’s my house, and I say my future godchild should have a good house,” he declared, as if that would speak it into existence. Ever the perfect man with perfect timing, Ray came outside to hear this declaration. 

“Whoa amigo. You would do that?” he looked at Trevor like he was the angel instead of Rose. _Weird to be on the other side of that look actually._ Trevor nodded vigorously. 

“I mean yeah. You guys are my friends, and you’re looking for a house. And I happen to have a really good house, especially good for families. Plus, it would mean a lot, ya know?” he rambled on. Ray beamed at him. Rose still looked a little less skeptical, but he could tell she was coming around. 

“That’s just amazing. Our future mijo or mija is going to be surrounded by the best people.” Ray laughed and pulled him in for a great big hug. Trevor grinned at Rose, who sighed even as a smile graced her face. 

“I mean, yeah, okay. I really do love this house,” she smiled and patted her stomach. Baby Molina was going to the _best baby ever_. Ray spun her around as she laughed and then headed back into the house muttering something about a space for a darkroom. Rose turned to Trevor.

“And the garage?” she asked quietly. His shoulders slumped. 

“Just don’t throw it out okay?” he replied finally. He solemnly resolved to never set foot in _that garage_ ever again. This way he could just gently hand that task over to Rose and continue on with his quest to be Trevor Wilson. He knew she got it; she always did. 

“Yeah, of course. It’ll be there, if you ever want it,” she said soothingly. And Rose Molina kept her word. Everything left behind from Sunset Curve remained in the garage loft for the next 22 years, never to be touched by Rose or Trevor. 

* * *

Five months later, Trevor Wilson was listening to his newly recorded single _Long Weekend_ and thinking deep thoughts again. Like if he should credit Luke Patterson or not. Because if he did, then he was just Bobby Johnson all over all again. But if he didn’t, then he was Trevor Wilson but also maybe a shitty person? _It’s just one song. Just to see if I can get back out there. I can always credit him later. If people are even interested in Trevor Wilson, of course. Maybe nobody will even like the song and it won't even matter._

Maybe, if you asked him late at night when he was vulnerable, Trevor Wilson might tell you that you should never think deep thoughts without telling your best friend. Because some decisions can never be taken back. 

And for Trevor, maybe he would have made a better decision had his thoughts not been interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Because there on his doorstep was something big and life changing and definitely more important than thoughts of Luke Patterson.

Charlotte Collins was a girl Trevor had dated for a month. Just to see if that was a thing he liked. And because pining over a dead bassist was decidedly not something Trevor Wilson did. So he’d dated Charlotte and then he’d ended it, because just this once Trevor Wilson could have something in common with Bobby Johnson – not liking girls. 

That small fact did not stop Charlotte from showing up at his door that January night - right before his first single released - with a car seat containing a baby and a set of papers (including a birth certificate stating “Father Trevor Wilson” and a release of maternal custody to said Trevor Wilson).

“Her name is Carrie,” Charlotte said, handing her over. Trevor took the little girl and looked at her cute little face. Okay, so maybe Baby Molina was going to be the _second best baby ever_ , because Carrie was definitely #1. And while Trevor was cooing at the baby in wonder, Charlotte Collins made her escape from both their lives in one fell swoop.

To Trevor’s credit, not once did he regret selling the house.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose finds "My Name is Luke" on Trevor's second album.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short scene set in 2010 - ya know, about that shady thing Trevor did.

“Trevor, this song is called _My Name is Luke_ ” Rose said, voice hard. She stared down at the album in her hands. Trevor cleared his throat and tried not to look guilty. 

“Yeah. I mean, yes. That song is called _My Name is Luke_ ,” he huffed out. Rose glared at him. 

“And why exactly would that song be on your second solo album, Trevor?” she asked pointedly. He knew that she was just waiting for him to admit what he’d done. He sighed.

“Because Luke wrote it,” he admitted quietly, looking around his home studio. It was nice – ridiculously nice. Definitely nicer than someone who had two hit albums from stolen songs deserved. _The guys would have been so jealous of this_. Trevor stopped that line of thinking instantly. There were no guys, none at all. The only person that would be jealous of this studio would be Carrie when she was older. And he would totally let her use it whenever she wanted – pending her not being six years old. Rose glared at him.

“Trevor, how could you? What’s your next hit going to be? _Home Is Where My Horse Is_?” she sneered. Trevor blanched and pulled back from the woman. He was horrified.

“What?! NO. I’ve never used his songs!” Trevor shouted. Rose snorted.

“Oh no. Luke’s songs you can steal but not your precious Reggie,” Rose went on. Trevor pulled farther back from her and in on himself. Instantly, Rose stopped. Because sometimes when she was with her best friend, she saw a cool and confident rock star. And sometimes she saw World’s #2 Dad (because Ray was obviously #1) making peanut butter and banana sandwiches. And sometimes, like now, she saw Bobby Johnson pale and cold lying on her couch not breathing. 

“I’m sorry, Rose. I just…made a decision? A bad decision yeah, but I made it and now it’s done. So I don’t know what you want me to say,” he whispered and looked at her imploringly. “Are you going to leave now?” Rose took a deep breath and filtered her anger.

“No, Trevor, I’m not going to leave. I’m just disappointed and upset, okay? Just let me sit here for a bit with it.” Rose replied quietly. She sorted through her feelings. She was disappointed he hadn’t used his own music, because she knew he had great things in him. She was sad that her best friend had felt so insecure that he needed to do that. She was hurt because he’d never told her, and she thought they didn’t have secrets. For a long time, they just sat there. Not a word was spoken. 

“Are any of these yours?” she asked finally. Trevor sighed again. If he could back in time, he’d never use any of those songs just to keep Rose from looking at him that way.

“Just one. Well two really. One on this album and one on the first album. I wasn’t going to use any, but it was important. They’re probably the worst ones, though,” he said, loud and clear as if not to hide from Rose in that moment. She turned the album over and read the names, looking for the Trevor original. For a minute, she thought it was _Crooked Teeth_ , but deep down she knew Trevor would never use a song he’d written for Reggie. Finally she got to song #12 – the final song on the album. She smiled then, not big and bright like her normal smile, but small and sad. Like she could just barely make out her best friend of a decade in what she saw.

“My Girl,” she said, small smile still there. He nodded.

“Yeah. She doesn’t get it now, but one day I want her to be able to find them. The songs that I really wrote just for her. Because dads are supposed to make their little girls feel special, and you can’t steal that from anyone,” he explained. And of course, Rose knew exactly which song on his debut album was his. After all, Luke Patterson absolutely never wrote a song called _Carrie Queen_.

“Promise me, Trevor, never again,” Rose demanded. He nodded at her and came close to grab her hands.

“I, Trevor Wilson, solemnly swear to never use anything on my future albums that I haven’t written without explicit consent,” he swore, crossing an “X” over his heart. Rose nodded at him then and handed him the album. 

“Okay. I’m still disappointed, but I’m going to move past this because I love you. And because we are going to be late for our Princess Tea Party,” she said, kissing him on the cheek and grabbing her purple tiara in a single swoop. Trevor took a deep breath and put on his pink tiara. Rose left the room while he looked around again. Eying the back of his guitar stand, he grabbed his pink glitter cape and pulled it tight around his shoulders. He had to look his best for the tea party, obviously.

And Trevor Wilson would gladly tell you (if you were in the know that is) that he never used another song written by Luke or Sunset Curve. Sure, some people said his later stuff wasn’t as good; especially since he bought songs from real songwriters sometimes (totally legal and credited). But Carrie Wilson would tell you that _her song_ was the best one of each of her dad’s five albums. And those were all Trevor Wilson originals anyway. Personally, Rose Molina agreed with Carrie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Trevor stole 22 of Luke's songs for his first two albums. For anyone that’s counting. His next 3 albums were not Sunset Curve.


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Canon Character Death
> 
> This is _the_ chapter...the one where Rose dies. I'm sorry it's really sad! But also, it's part of the canon story and Trevor's story so I had to include it.
> 
> *Also, as a timeline note, I'm not 100% when the show takes place besides a year after Julie's mom dies and during the 2020 school year. I've decided that it was spring semester and wrote this accordingly.*

Rose Molina was a musician. The type of musician had changed over the years. She’d been in a few bands – Rose and the Petal Pushers was still her favorite. She’d once performed at a Trevor Wilson concert as a “Special Guest Star”. And she still knew a very over choregraphed dance to Madonna’s _Vogue_. But she’d never gotten famous. She’d never really wanted to.

By 2018, she was a private music tutor who rarely wrote who her own music. Mostly she wrote with Julie, her perfect wonderful daughter. There was nothing she loved more than seeing the joy on her daughter’s face as she taught her the keys on the piano. 

Of course, she had an equally wonderful son and took pride in sitting at his baseball games and waving her homemade pom poms in the stands. But she was biased. She loved music, and Julie loved music. Together, they made magic music. She’d even worried that made her a bad mom – loving the music with Julie so much when Carlos didn’t play. But Ray (light of her life) had made her see that she loved both her children equally and was a really good mom. Trevor had told her that she just loved music so much that it spilled over into her love for Julie. And she’d believed him, of course. Famous rock stars that dedicated every album to their daughter knew what they’re talking about.

Rose Molina had good life. So it was with a heavy heart that she had received the news from the doctor: breast cancer. It crushed her. It was overwhelming. She wanted to cry and scream and rage. And she would, but not now. First, she had to be strong, for Ray and Julie and Carlos. And so was. She went to chemo and radiation. She lost her hair and bought patterned scarves for Christmas. But by Valentine’s Day 2019, Rose Molina knew that she was fighting a losing battle.

And that’s why, on the first Tuesday of March, she stood on Trevor Wilson’s doorstep in a purple and pink butterfly headscarf. Trevor opened the door almost instantly, as if he’d just known she was going to be there. 

“So hi,” she smiled softly. “I know our daughters are fighting – as teenager girls are want to do – but do you want to help me write a song?” she asked sweetly. He pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I mean, duh. I’ve basically been waiting my whole life for the offer,” he replied. And although he’d framed it as a quip, Rose knew it was the truth. For a moment, she felt a twinge of regret for not asking earlier, but she pushed that aside. Rose Molina did not have time for regrets.

It was a song for Julie, of course. Because she knew her daughter; she was going to take her death hardest of all. Rose had most of the words pulled together already - she knew what Julie needed to hear. She just needed them to be perfect and accompanied by that elusive melody that would bring light to Julie’s heart. It took time, but there in Trevor’s studio, they pieced together the song from her heart. She peered at Trevor.

“Hey, Trev, what’s the hardest part?” she asked quietly. He stared at her, heart skipping a beat at her question. In the 24 years he’d known her, this was the first time she’d ever asked that.

“Getting out of bed. Pulling yourself out into the world without them,” he replied finally, quieter than he’d been years. He reached over and squeezed her hand. She gave him a watery smile and pulled the paper towards her. He watched quietly as she tweaked the words, added a few here and there, and caught a line she was adding _wake up if it’s all you do_. Trevor cleared his throat, as if that could stop the tears from falling. It didn’t. And yet, Rose did not look up until she was finished with her re-writes.

“Okay. Now it’s perfect. I mean I still have to put it on sheet music. But it’s ready. Whenever she’s ready to hear it. Whenever she needs it,” Rose said firmly, putting the music in her purse. She patted his cheek and wiped the tears away. He smiled at her softly. 

Trevor Wilson didn’t know it then, (although maybe he did in his heart) but that was the moment. His last moment alone with his best friend. For later, at the very end, her family would be there too.

And he didn’t know that Rose would spend the next week in that garage, the one he hated and loved, carefully putting Julie’s song on paper. That she’d play it for the plants and the sun to hear, just to make sure it really was perfect. 

Rose Molina’s last moments were with her family. And when he said he’d wait in the hall, she frowned and demanded that _all_ of her family was there. Victoria cried big watery tears, and Carlos hugged his aunt’s side. Julie held her mom’s hand and told her how much she loved her. Trevor squeezed Ray’s shoulder as tears flowed down the older man's face. Then, in the quiet moments between sunset and nightfall, Rose Molina left this world, and everything was a little drearier.

In the weeks that followed, Trevor made sure to send casseroles and flowers and even a new camera to Ray. Because he didn’t know what would help – if anything would help. But he felt like he had to do something. 

If you asked Trevor Wilson about the dedication on his sixth album, he’d tell you that sometimes people come into your life and completely change you. That this album was for all those people. The songs were softer than anyone had heard before from Trevor Wilson – more piano and sweeter melodies. And the songs were somehow sad and inspiring all at once. Trevor proudly said he’d written everyone himself (and it was damn true). 

Rolling Stones said it was why Trevor Wilson was a legend – because he could break your heart so beautifully.   
Billboard said his ballads were his transition to becoming one of the country greats.  
Entertainment Weekly said it was his comeback and named the album as a “To Watch” for award season.

But one thing everyone seemed to agree on, _Sunlight Angel_ was the best thing to ever come from Trevor Wilson. And if you asked him, he’d agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first time we get away from maybe 100% Canon Compliant (pretending that Bobby straight up being in love with Reggie is totally canon). But Julie was really sad after her mom died and she stopped playing music altogether, so I feel like she definitely wouldn't know if Trevor Wilson had put out an album in that time period. And Ray wouldn't bring it up since it's about her mom. He's the #1 Good Dad, and Julie definitely couldn't handle that then.
> 
> With that said, this is my headcanon that totally happened. And hey maybe that's why Show Carrie is so angry! Because her dad wrote an album for Julie's mom and Julie never said anything or came over to be friends again.


	6. +1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby has a chat with Rose - even if he can't see her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess technically this 5+1 story is 5 times Bobby and Rose were there for each other plus 1 time they couldn't be. Which sounds kinda sad - and it is - but this chapter brings us ghostly chats, closure, and the sunshine on Trevor Wilson's soul. 
> 
> Thanks for coming on this journey with me! ♥

Trevor watched Julie and the Phantoms perform at The Orpheum. Watched his best friend’s daughter perform with his band – Luke, Reggie, and Alex. He felt his stomach drop and for a fraction of a second, he was Bobby Johnson all over again. Watched the boy he had once loved dance around the stage. Watched the boy who he’d performed Madonna for stand and sing. Watched the boy who songs he’d stolen stare at Julie Molina as if she was his whole world. 

He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel – guilty, sad, confused? He hadn’t been Bobby Johnson in so long that he wasn’t sure exactly who that boy had even been. But then he shook himself out of his stupor. He was Trevor Wilson, that’s who he’d been for 23 years. He was a rock star and a dad. And he’d had the _best_ best friend of all time. And her daughter was giving the biggest performance of her life (so far). He wanted to clap, but it was like his body was frozen in time. At least Carrie clapped for her former friend. He never quite understood what had happened there. But they were young, maybe they could still make up. 

As he left the venue, he gave Ray a nod and a smile. They weren’t close like they were before, without Rose or Carrie and Julie bringing them together all the time. But Ray Molina was good man (totally the best ever, if he believed Rose, which he always did) who deserved the world, and Trevor really hoped he’d find happiness again. Rose would like that. She’s also like it if he didn’t ruin her daughter’s band, so Trevor Wilson resolved to say nothing. He wondered, briefly, if Julie had ever performed _Wake Up_. He hoped she had.

* * *

The next day, Trevor went to the last place he thought he’d ever go – the cemetery. He brought dahlias – red, pink, orange, yellow, blue, purple. He’d attended her funeral, of course, but he hadn’t come back. He hated graveyards – full of people he’d lost. But this time, today, felt different. Like it was exactly where he was supposed to be. Despite the fact that he hadn’t been back, it was easy to find his way to her headstone. It was clean and pristine, obvious that her family had loved her dearly and came often. He got down on his knees in front of the stone, carefully arranging the flowers. Then he sat down fully, in his favorite crisscross position from meditation, and he talked.

“Hey Rosie. How’s things up there? You catch Julie’s performance last night? The Orpheum. The dream. I know I know, now you’re looking down all worried scrunchy face like. But they were there with her – Luke, Reggie, and Alex. Ghosts of my past are literally turning up playing music. Any chance you’re coming back? Hit that piano rift and write a song with me again?” Trevor sighed here and slumped down. He didn’t hear the teenage girl behind him. And he didn’t see the three ghosts, but then again, most people didn’t. 

“Brought you the rainbow of dahlias by the way. You missed PRIDE last year, but I think I’m going to do something special this year for it. Maybe throw a rainbow flower party, invite only boys who play the bass, and tell them my best friend said I need a man. Or hey, what about Ray!” he chuckled out loud and played with some grass in his hand. The girl behind him was listening intently and squeezing the air (or maybe a ghostly hand). 

“I miss you. 24 years is long time to have someone just to lose them. I wrote you a song, did you hear it? I mean, I actually wrote you 11 songs and dedicated an album to you. 100% Trevor Wilson originals, as promised. Billboard said I could be the next big country artist, if I wanted. Can you believe that? You remember that first time you came to the house and you told me that singing a song about a horse was perfect for a funeral? And you played it on the guitar too. Imagine Reggie hearing Julie’s mom playing his song.” Trevor laughed out loud this time, a full body laugh. Absently he noted that he was crying, but he just continued on. If he turned around, he might have seen tears in the girl's eyes as well.

“You know that first day you came into the garage, I thought you were my sunlight angel come to save me from the dark loneliness. And I was right. Every time things got dark and heavy, you were there with sunlight and laughter and love. And so here I am, in a graveyard, chatting with my best friend. Mom, Dad, Nana, and Pop Pop are just like 12 rows down from you. That’s nice, huh. You were basically their family too; raising your family in the house they raised theirs in. The guys are here too. Luke’s up front – pretty far from you actually, but he was totally your least favorite." Trevor laughed here, as if he was telling an inside joke to the air. "Kidding, kidding! Reggie’s like halfway between you and Luke. If I sang _Home Is Where My Horse Is_ from here, he might even hear it. And Alex is back in the corner under the big tree. But you knew that. He’s the closest. Bet you’d like that, huh? You did learn Madonna for him.” Trevor made some hand movements. “Strike a pose,” he crooned to the air and then smiled. If Trevor Wilson could see ghosts, he would see 3 teenagers from the 90s crying. He couldn't, of course, but he continued to chat with the air anyway (and hoped that maybe she really was listening).

“Guess I really just came out here to say I love you. And that your family is okay. Ray, Victoria, and Carlos looked good last night. And Julie was singing like you knew she could. Guess she found your song huh? That’s the last real memory I have of us, ya know? You in your butterfly scarf, smiling, creating your masterpiece on my keyboard, and laughing at my totally cool kimono. It matched my headband by the way. I’m totally starting a fashion trend with it. And hey, Rosie, if you could peek down on Carrie too sometimes, that would be nice? She really only has me now, and we both know I was always better with you there. So bye I guess or whatever people say in graveyards. I’ll be back. Promise.” He stood up quickly then and turned to find himself face to face with Julie Molina, eyes wet.

“Oh, um, hi Mr. Wilson. I haven’t been here long at all. No way. So, uh, were you talking with my mom?” Julie stammered looking to her left and right. Trevor raised his eyebrows at the girl and wiped his face.

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to crowd in on your time though. I’m just leaving. Oh and I caught your performance last night. You were really great, Julie.” He smiled at her. She gave him a half smile back.

“Thanks. I was just coming to tell my mom about it. The guys were good too, yeah?” she asked with a grin. He let out a chuckle. 

“Yeah, they were great too. They always were though. Hey Julie, can you tell them something for me? Whenever you see them,” he asked her. Julie nodded back seriously.

“I guess you know then, huh? Yeah. I can tell them whatever you want,” she replied, eyes darting to the right. He sighed. Maybe they were here right now, and he just couldn’t see them.

“Are they here now?” he asked instead. She nodded and gestured to the right. He turned to the air, apparently where his old bandmates were. He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. For everything. But also, thank you,” he said out loud. He felt a weird cold presence near his shoulder and then it was gone. He turned back to Julie. She smiled at him.

“Water under the bridge, bro,” she quoted to him. He felt his heart soar, as the weight of 25 years finally lifted. He turned to leave Julie in peace with her mom, when she spoke from behind him. “My mom sent them to me. To help me because she couldn’t,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. He turned back to her.

“Yeah, that’s definitely a Rose move. You were sad and that sucks. So she sent you a new friend. Or three friends. She did that for me once, ya know?” he smiled at her again. “You guys are gonna be legends.” And with that he turned and headed back to his car. As he walked, he swore there was a girl walking with him – maybe it was 19-year-old Rose from his garage that first day or 43-year-old Rose in her butterfly scarf. It didn’t really matter, because for that moment in time, Rose and Trevor walked together. Then she was gone.

If you asked Trevor, he’d tell you that one day they’d walk in the clouds, together again. And maybe he’d also tell you that PRIDE parties were better with rainbow roses and dahlias, that bass players were hotter than other musicians, that Ray Molina really was the **best guy ever** , that country phases were totally legit, that Dirty Candy had the **best** bops for dancing, that Julie and the Phantoms were music legends, that teenage girls totally do make up, that Princess Tea Parties are better with tiaras, and that all stories do have happy endings – you just have to hang on till you get there. You’d have to ask Trevor Wilson though. After all, this is his ballad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the end of Trevor's story - or at least the story I've been telling. *Points at the "Angst with a Happy Ending" Tag*
> 
> I'd like to thank Bobby/Trevor Wilson for bringing me inspiration and making me write his story when 2020 stole my words. And thanks to the JaTP fandom for being out there and accepting of 28-year-old women! Pretty sure I'll be back; after all, Carrie Wilson looks like she needs a her story told too! ***kisses***

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments bring sunshine to my soul!
> 
> Come play with me on [tumblr](http://madamecristal.tumblr.com/)! ♥


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